


A Tale of Two Spiders

by rxcrcfllptrs



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Elements from The Amazing Spider-Man (2012), M/M, Mild Language, Multi, Multiverse, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 16:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19727692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxcrcfllptrs/pseuds/rxcrcfllptrs
Summary: "My name is Harley Keener. After the incident of the Mandarin with Extremis, I found out that an evil corporation had taken root in town. AIM has been using Rose Hill and other nearby towns as testing grounds for its more illegal medical trials — because exploding humans wasn't enough, apparently. One day I got bit by what I thought was a regular spider, and then my entire life changed.""I became Spider-Man! I take down bad guys and prevent AIM and OsCorp and other big bad corporations from picking on the unsuspecting little guys. Well, I did. Until I got hit by their experimental death ray... except I didn't die.""Instead, I ended up in New York City. And Houston, we have a problem.""Because they already have a Spider-Man of their own."More ship, character, and additional tags will be added as chapters progress.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's another longfic that I've had crawling up my sleeve! This one is primarily inspired by peteyboi on the Spiderlad discord, except I kind of took their idea and ran away with it. Woops. I hope you love it, nevertheless! Not to worry, I'm still working on my other fics, but they'll be on rotation now.
> 
> I consider this fic to be a bit of my love letter to all the different movie incarnations of Spider-Man, and so I poured a good amount of thinking and heart to this. Enjoy. :)

Everything went by so fast. Even faster than he can keep up with, which is really saying something.

They hit him with some kind of blinding light, disorienting him and making the world go slow and hazy in the edges of his vision. "We got him!" some masked nobody says as every muscle in Harley's body is locking up. His feet are planted on the ground, unmoving like lead pillars. He might be seeing double, maybe triple...?

"Spider-man!" the nice lady in the labcoat and cat-eye glasses from school shrieks. _Huh? Why is she here?_ "Look out!"

Harley can distantly hear a machine powering up from behind him, and the world lights up. For what seems like an eternity, he can hear someone screaming. Until he realizes, oh, that's him. That's him screaming in pain.

"M͡s̛.̡ A̕r҉ŗoyo͟—"

"—multive҉rsȩ, also known as an omniverse or meta-universe, is a hyp̶o҉thetical group of multiple universes. Together, these universes comprise everything that exists: the entirety of space, time, m̸a͝tt̕er, ͜e͟n͘e͡r͡gy, an͏d̨ t͝h͘e͘ p̸hys̛ic̡al la͠ws and c͟on͠s͏tants that describe them—"

"...You're gonna be̵ ̵o͡kay, Rebecca, those b̷as̵ta͟r͝ḑs wi͢l͟l pay ͟f͝or̶ what they did to you..."

He can feel himself shredding into pieces, torn apart bit by bit, melting into goo and reforming instantaneously. He feels everything and nothing. Is he dying? This feels like dying. Harley doesn't want to die. If he could control his throat, he'd whimper in fear.

He's so afraid.

He's so alone.

Then

it

all

fades

away

.

.

.


	2. sense things that i can't see yet; like what's up, danger?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this is supposed to be the afterlife, Harley wants a refund.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Blackway and Black Caviar's "[What's Up Danger](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y88LVU7MAe4)".

Harley cracks his eyes open and realizes he's lying down against concrete. The sun blinds his eyes, he doesn't have his mask on. He doesn't even worry about the case of his identity right now. Damn it, he just got hit by a "death ray" and the sun is in his eyes.

If this is supposed to be heaven, he wants a refund.

He closes his eyes for a bit, taking two breaths, before pulling himself up. Pain strangles his ribs so he has to lean his arm on the wall for support. Did that ray take away his healing factor? God, he's so screwed if it did. He screws his eyes shut, concentrating the loss of vision into his hearing.

And he hears _everything_. The sounds distanced by the pounding in his head hit him like a freight train. It's loud, it's cars and people and horns and TVs and phones and shouting— _where_ exactly is he?

When he's certain he won't fall over from pain, he makes his way out of the alleyway. He's had a grip on his mask this entire time, but he's still wearing his dinged up suit. _Fuck_. He slips his mask on and leans on the brick wall facade of the shop, beside the alleyway he came out of.

"Hey!" he raises a hand to a skateboarder who catches his eye. "Can you tell me where I am right now?"

"You lost?" Skater guy says, and Harley nods. "Comic-Con was like a few days ago. Neat Spider-Man cosplay, though!" he flashes Harley the horns.

Harley shakes his head, thinking on his feet. "Nah, was thinking more the public library."

"Oh! Uh," guy fishes for his phone and taps for directions. "Just follow this route," he says, orientating it to reflect the way Harley's facing to the map.

Harley nods. "Okay, cool, thanks. Appreciate the help."

"No problem! Your webshooters look so cool, by the way! Do they work?" 

Harley shakes his head. "Nah. Just a prop," he lies, to Skater guy's dismay. "What's your name, man?"

"Fred," he says. "Yours?"

"Uh," Harley freezes, eyes scanning for anything that might help. “Cody,” after the Coca-Cola truck that passes by.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Cody,” Fred says, smiling as he pockets his phone and puts his earphones back on. “See you around!”

Harley nods, watching as Fred goes, before making his way to the library. _Cody, really? Good going, Keener._

* * *

It’s very, very weird walking down the street in just his Spider-man suit. Like, he’d stick out like a sore thumb in Rose Hill, but thus far he’s seen a few street performers with Captain America shields, Black Widow catsuits, and several impressive replications of the Iron Man Suit. In cardboard and plastic, of course.

He shrugs. New York [dey like that, sometimes](https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/it-really-do-be-like-that-sometimes).

The attending library staff doesn’t bat an eye when they see someone without any real form of ID in a Spider-man suit. They even quip “gotta preserve your secret identity, huh?” when they hand him a slip of paper to fill out a temporary customer card. But their cool demeanor doesn’t see it coming when Harley handed them a 20 dollar bill for fees — a _Harriet Tubman_ 20 dollar bill.

“Uh… huh,” they look between him and the bill with a raised brow. “Where’d you get this?” they hand it back, showing a very un-Harriet Tubman 20 dollar bill beside it. Harley glares at that “normal” bill like it’s the cause of all the pains in his existence.

“Trust me,” he says, pained. “You wouldn’t have believed me even if I told you.”

They look at him skeptically, “Try me.”

Harley looks at them, brows furrowed then he looks down to write his personal details on a provided piece of paper. “Don’t you have other library things to do?”

They gesture to the very empty reception area in front of their desk. “Does it look like it?” They rest their cheek on their propped-up palm, looking bored and disaffected. “Trust me, this is probably the most entertaining thing I’ve encountered all day.”

Harley rolls his eyes and hands back the paper. “I can believe it.”

Library staffer turns and tucks their hair to the back of their ear before taking the card and moving to a system computer, probably to punch his details in. Harley hopes that’s the last of the nosy questions, but it’s too soon to hope. He taps his foot against the floor as background chatter and the sounds of a mechanical keyboard fill the air.

“Tennessee, huh?” _damn it_. “Someone’s far from home,” they comment.

Harley stares at them. “You’re already punching in my details, we’re basically on a first name basis now,” he looks over to take a peek at their nametag. “Michelle.” With she/her scrawled underneath. God, it’s like he became [Jacob age 17](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqCCBohjaqA) for a second there.

Michelle doesn’t look up from the keyboard, continuing to type away. “Alright, Harley. What brings you to our humble city?” she looks over then, crossing her arms.

“I’m a,” he swallows. _Shit, shit, c’mon brain, think!_ “Big… fan… of Spider-man,” the last word comes out more like a question. Whatever was in that death ray has clearly made him go dumb and dumber. She huffs in amusement, and Harley purses his lips in decidedly non-amusement.

“Right,” she shakes her head. “Neat costume you have going on there.”

“It’s my own personal take on the design,” he says dryly, crossing his arms. Either in defiance or embarrassment, that’s for Harley to know and absolutely no one else to find out.

Michelle looks at him up and down with squinted eyes, and he feels very thoroughly _seen_ , for some reason. “Yeah well, if you ever come back, one of my friends is a massive fan.” She hands him a temporary pass and paper with a code. “He’s always looking for people to nerd out with about superheroes.”

“Cool, yeah,” he says, nodding. “That’d be nice,” _if I can even manage to go back_ home _, what the hell?_

“Alright,” she claps her hands once. “Your pass lasts for 12 hours, but you only have an hour of computer time for the day. You can used it in whatever chunks of time you want, but you’ll only have an entire hour to cut up.”

“Got it, thanks,” he mutters, taking the card and memorising the details on it, if only to have his eyes focus on anything else. Then he takes a deep breath and looks back up. “See you around,” walking off to the signs that direct him to where he wants to go.

Michelle mock salutes as he walks away.

* * *

Like, he’s said it before but he’ll say it again: being in his suit for an extended period of time outside of long-term stakeouts is very weird. And uncomfortable. He’ll need a shower soon if this keeps itself up.

He looks up the requisite search terms, like “20 dollar bill” (turns out there was a petition for this but never got enough attention because of a mass data leak in 2014), “Iron Man” (still kicking ass and taking names), and “the Avengers” (dealing with some kind of Accord business that was mostly boring over-publicized conferences). But Harley knows that there’s one thing he should really be looking up, considering he’s wearing the damn thing reminding him of it the most.

With some trepidation, he looks up “Spider-Man”.

Of all the things to be the first hit, the actual first one is a viral video from Youtube. It’s of a red-and-blue-clad Spider-man doing backflips and swinging through New York City from shaky phone camera footage. This is weird for a number of reasons.

One: red and blue? That _totally_ isn’t going to stand out when he’s trying to catch a bad guy discreetly. Two: this guy is pretty legit, with his own web shooters and mask that adjusts to his eye movements. It’s a nice touch, but Harley doesn’t have enough technical expertise to whip up something like that for himself. And finally, three: this is from another video, seeing Spider-Man accompany Iron Man to an Accords conference. A little two second blip of the red mask behind Tony Stark.

So he landed in a bizarro New York with its own weird money, where there's already a Spider-man, and Iron Man is helping _him_ out. He can't help but feel a pang of jealousy, is this why Tony hasn’t thought to contact him in a while? Because he’s already busy with a New York Spiderling? God, what if there were other Spider-men out there? Spider-men? Spider-mans? Spider-people?

Tony did say to call him at any point if he needed help. He can give Tony that. And granted, Harley never thought to call, because “we’re connected” doesn’t exactly cover “hey, I turned into a radioactive spider-person because they can’t stop experimenting on small town people like guinea pigs”. There are some lines he isn’t sure to cross, so he didn’t. As much as it pains him.

But, whatever. He made his choices now he has to lie in them. He frowns, then presses a button on his web shooters, indicator lighting up. They're still about halfway full, but they wouldn't last for more than a couple days, and that's if he's really frugal with it. 

Harley hums and looks up any STEM labs around the city. There’s probably some that’ll allow some wayward kid in an artistically-licensed Spider-man suit to synthesize his own web fluid. Probably. He’ll figure out a way to get in somehow.

There’s several promising ones, but a hunch leads him to click on _Midtown School of Science and Technology_. After a cursory read-through their website, he comes up with three roadblocks:

Problem #1: he doubts he brought any legal paperwork with him to ensure that he’s an actual person.

Problem #2: this particular school is applied to rather than just attended, and applicants are vetted with an entrance exam.

Problem #3: the school year’s already started.

Harley lets out a long breath. So it might not be easy to create a new identity and attend a STEM school that only admits the brightest and best.

* * *

No, never mind. It is that easy.

Harley finds himself in too-ratty clothes, carrying an armful of books, shoulder to shoulder amongst other beleaguered students. Well, he got his shower and clothes-that-aren’t-his-suit, so it’s a mild improvement. But only just.

He’s herded from class to class, going through the hellish “introduce yourself to the class” spiel for every one. Except for the one where the teacher with the kind smile behind cat-eye glasses — where’s her labcoat? — just nods and lets him find an empty seat. Ms. Artiga — Arroyo? — pulls him aside after class and tells him that if he needs anything, to just give her a call. So that was nice, at least.

Nothing interesting or of note really happens until lunch time, and that’s because his Spider-sense finally acts up at the view of too many people in a crowded lunch room.

There’s not really any spots that weren’t already taken up by cliques or a solitary social pariah bullied by some other sad hormonal teenager. But the twinge on his neck that he’s lowkey been missing is coming back with something fierce, enough that it leads him straight to a person with curly brown hair. They’re sitting down, back towards Harley as they chatter about LEGO sets to their, presumably, best friend.

Harley isn’t sure why his senses lead him here, but then a startlingly familiar face joins the table, so he joins Michelle there anyway.

“Hey,” he slides in beside her, to the surprise of the two other occupants of the table. “Fancy seeing you here,” he drawls, nodding towards Michelle. To her credit, she doesn’t react other than her eyes widening really subtly.

“What’s up, Spider-boy?” she says, nonchalant as she picks up a fry to eat. The side of Harley’s mouth tilts up, huffing in amusement before starting to eat his sandwich. His rather not-so-appetizing sandwich, but he’s hungry.

“Spider-what-now?” the curly-haired person raises their eyebrow, looking at Michelle with a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look.

Harley raises his hand, “that’s me,” after he gulps down his bite.

“We met at my volunteer thing at the public library,” Michelle slides in as explanation. “He had a Spider-man suit on,” she looks over to Harley. “How was Comic-Con?”

_What the fuck is Comic-Con?_ “It was great,” he lies. “Lots of people thought my webshooter props were legit. I put LEDs on them so they light up and everything.”

The other person on the table pipes up. “For real?” they say excitedly. “I wanna see that!” Curly-hair elbows them. “Oh, sorry, I’m Ned.”

Harley nods, a bit put off by the overexcitement. _This must be who Michelle was talking about_. “I’m Harley,” he sticks out his hand. “I left my shooters at home, sorry,” and is grateful that he wore long sleeves today, hiding his shooters anyway.

“I’m Peter,” curly — Peter — says, staring at Harley’s wrists. The tingling sensation that never left intensifies. Now _that’s_ interesting.

“Aw, that sucks,” Ned continues, oblivious to the tension starting to rise. “You just transferred here, right? Maybe you could bring them tomorrow?”

Harley doesn’t actually look at Ned just yet, instead staring at Peter with a raised eyebrow, challenging him to comment on whatever he’s staring at. “Maybe,” he tears his gaze away. “I need to get all my stuff into my locker first. New transfer, new space, too much stuff to put away.”

“Oh, yeah, cool,” Ned nods, waving a hand. “Peter’s a big fan of Spider-Man too!” They say enthusiastically, slinging an arm over Peter’s shoulders. Harley turns to look at Peter again, _or are they both the friends Michelle’s referring to?_ “He has his own prop webshooters, you should compare notes!”

That makes Harley tilt his head, smirking. “Does he now?” The deer-in-headlights look don’t really leave, instead panic growing in the back of Peter’s expression.

Harley’s spider-senses go on a fever pitch, the tingling bordering on painful. “Ned, I d—”

A crash interrupts the conversation, many heads whip towards the source of the noise. Then all hell breaks loose.

Harley’s eyes widen, making a break for the closest bathroom while everyone tries to get away from the big… green… lizard… man? He shakes his head, _this day just got a whole lot more interesting._

Thankfully, the crowd seems to be herded the same way as he is, out into the nearest emergency exit. The Lizard doesn’t seem to be aiming for anyone of the horde in particular, until he realizes— _Peter_.

In all the commotion, no one notices when Harley webs himself to the door of a bathroom, slamming it shut as he disappears to change into his suit.

* * *

Most of the throng has been lead out, leaving Peter alone with the Lizard. He’s still reeling from the encounter with Harley, unsure if they’re friend or foe. As the Lizard surveys the empty room, until its eyes land on Peter, he desperately hopes it’s the former.

Peter makes a running start towards the Lizard, sliding as he webs up its knees and sending it tripping. He jumps up on its back, hoping to get a hit in, but gets thrown off balance when the Lizard recovers quicker than he hopes. His punch misses and he’s sent tumbling head-first towards the floor.

The Lizard stalks a little closer to him, swiping to get rid of his backpack and throwing it off to another side of the cafeteria. It swipes again, claws narrowly missing as Peter webs up a bench and stops it from making contact with his shirt. “Hey, no! Bad touch!”

It makes quick work of the bench, metal rods bending in its paw. It gets a grip on Peter’s shoulder and sends him skidding across the floor. Peter’s head works overtime as he tries to get to his backpack, still a good distance from him and through the Lizard. He dodge rolls to avoid another swipe, claws digging through linoleum and into the concrete. 

Peter makes a running break for his backpack, leaving it to roar in his wake— cut off by the sound of something heavy hitting it in the face. “Hey, Lizard Brain!”

Peter’s close to his backpack now, but both he and the Lizard snap their heads to the source of the sound. In the hole where the Lizard made its first appearance stands… Spider-man?

But this Spider-man is wearing a [black suit, accented with a minimal blue spider design](https://oyster.ignimgs.com/mediawiki/apis.ign.com/spider-man-ps4/8/8a/Spider_StealthSuit.jpg), arms crossed. “Ready to play doubles?” He webs a grappling rope to the ceiling and starts swinging towards the Lizard, who looks down only to find that Peter has disappeared.

With that distraction, Harley gets the opening to land a kick on the Lizard’s head. While dazed, he webs the thing up to the tables in the hopes of subduing it. He’s only been in a new place for so long and he’d rather not have to resort to violence so quickly. Maybe.

At least, until he realizes that this guy is stronger than a regular bad guy. Actually, the whole scaley larger-than-life-ness should’ve tipped him off. _Oh well_ , he thinks with a vague pang of unease, _at least we know enough_ not _to try that next time_. So he switches up tactics.

The Lizard is far too alert to try anything like his flying kick again, so he takes to distracting — crawling on the ceiling to get away from his line of sight. He takes care not to use more web fluid than he positively needs to, sticking small patches to distract rather than disarm.

_Where is Peter?_ he thinks, 99% certain that Peter being Spider-man was why his sense was acting up in the first place. Well, that, or the giant lizard that’s laying siege to a perfectly fine cafeteria. Either/or, really.

Lost in thought, he doesn’t realize his grip is slipping until it’s a bit too late, his panicked “oh shit” garnering unwanted reptilian recognition. _What the hell?_ are the last words he thinks before he’s grabbed by the front of his suit. He's tossed back and forth across the tables like some kind of rag doll.

Like, it’s already well-established that this isn’t any sort of afterlife, much less heaven, but in the very tiny chance that it is: Harley’s _fucking pissed_ about it. 

He feels his brain rattle in his skull when the onslaught of physical trauma stops. Any and all brain processes halt as he skids across the floor and into a wall. He wheezes, dust filtering into his lungs as his vision focuses and defocuses. A persistent shadow stalks towards him.

“C’mon, Dr. Connors! Can’t we talk this out?” calls out Peter, all suited up with nowhere to go. He webs up two of the overhead fluorescent lamps, pulling them down to hit the Lizard square on the back of the head. While dazed, Peter takes the time to disappear from its sight. He takes that time to jump on its back and put it in a chokehold, making web ropes to blind it. “You’re not thinking straight! This isn’t you!”

Peter ends up on a rough lizard-rodeo for a few minutes, grip strong until they end up at a wall. Peter’s slammed to the wall back-first. With a grunt, Peter grip slackens at the impact. He’s temporarily blindsided and unthinkingly latches onto a utility light fixture. His weight creaks and breaks the fixture off half of its attachments.

Harley comes back up, gaining momentum from grappling through the ceiling and lunging for its back. He ends up hugging its tail as Peter recovers, landing when he aims for the Lizard's back. This agitates the hell out of the Lizard; trying to tear Peter off his chest ends with several rough rounds of the lizard-rodeo for all three of them. The agitation gets so intense that it sends Harley flying at the force of it, out into the hallway, hugging the wriggling tail and all.

It takes him a second to realize that the tail isn’t even attached to the Lizard anymore, exclaiming “ew, _gross!”_ as he tosses it aside and gets a running start back. 

The doors bust wide open, revealing Peter landing blows that don’t look particularly effective, alternated with blinding webbing into the Lizard’s eyes. With haste, Harley runs back into the fold and webs up a lunch table the Lizard passes by and harshly pulling.

Okay, it _does_ end up knocking into the Lizard, so that’s a point for him. But it also hits Peter, bringing him back to a big fat goose egg. 

Peter’s down, so Harley goes _fuck it_ and starts webbing up what he can of the dazed Lizard. It creates an intricate tapestry of webbing spanning the floor to the ceiling, bound to the Lizard. He’d take a photo if he wasn’t, y’know, trying to subdue it. _Now that’s a thought._

His focus snaps to attention as his shooters start to beep out in alarm. “Gonna need a bit of help here, Spidey!” Harley can see Peter shake off as much of the debris that’s accumulated on him, standing on shaky legs just as the Lizard starts tearing off the webbing. Its huge arm hits Harley square in the chest and sends him flying, hitting a wall-back first. He slides down from a back-shaped indent in the concrete.

_The afterlife_ _ **sucks**_. Harley’s vision blinks in and out of darkness, then he’s out.

Peter eventually launches back onto the Lizard, leading it out into the hallway. _Man, don’t you get_ tired _?!_ He thinks as he’s tossed into several lockers. It’s followed by a swipe that he narrowly dodges, three huge claw marks tearing through metal like butter. His webbing isn’t nearly strong enough to carry however much weight the Lizard is, nor is his strength enough to haul it like it did Harley.

He winces, _need to make that up to them later_. Then he winces again, for real, when the Lizard’s tailspin catches him and sends him careening across the hallway. The world spins a little more as he webs a swinging point close to the Lizard’s shoulder, the edges of his vision starting to fray.

He tries for a flying kick, but instead, the Lizard catches him by the feet and throws him like a baseball through a wall and into an empty classroom. His breathing gets heavy, vision graying out. His mind is pulsing out _hurt_ in time with his heartbeat, pain blooming everywhere.

But somewhere deep in the pits of his mind is a voice in startling clarity, _he’s getting away!_

Like slow motion, Peter holds up his wrist and aims a tracker straight for the tail. It’s like a lightweight bullet, latches on tight like a spider, and beeps in his webshooter when it activates. He lets out a huge breath, closing his eyes. 

“Maybe a few seconds of rest, wouldn’t… hurt…” he mumbles, fading away.

* * *

“Is this a regular thing you deal with?” Harley asks, holding up an ice-cold slushie to his once-again strained ribs. They’re sitting on barstools in the nearby 7-11. This is shortly after they come back to consciousness. They limped through the kitchen backdoor just before the police got into the building. “‘Cause if it is, I take it back. I’ll be a small-town hero any day.”

“Technically I’m supposed to be a small town hero, too,” Peter protests, remembering telling Mr. Stark that he wants to be the hero for the little guy. “Just, bigger town.”

Harley snorts, moving his slushie to take a sip. “Right. I don’t know what you think a town is supposed to be, but this is a whole city. Borough of a city, sure, but still way bigger than what I have back home,” he rests his temple on the cooling condensation of the cup, sighing at the temporary relief.

“Sorry for getting you tossed around by my nemesis, by the way,” Peter mumbles, nibbling at a bit of protein bar as his appetite returns to him. “New transfer student and you’re already getting knocked around by my enemies.”

Harley shrugs. “We share the same callsign, so there’s probably some rule out there saying we have to share. Su nemesis es mi nemesis, or something,” he waves a dismissive hand. “I’m sorry for getting you hit with the lunch table, by the way,” he grimaces. “Not my finest moment.”

“Nothing I can’t bounce back from,” Peter smiles, tracing patterns on the plastic table. “It was our first time collaborating, so I think we’ll get better the next time.”

There’s a moment where Harley sharply inhales, _if I don’t manage to get back home in time for there to_ be _a next time_. But he doesn’t say that. “Well, I think we got off on the wrong foot, so to speak,” he extends a hand to shake. “I’m Harley Keener, I use he/him pronouns, I like fixing things, and you know what else I go by as,” he says with a wink.

Peter tilts his head, looking over to see if there were any other people in the vicinity to overhear. “Well, Harley,” his hand surges up to meet Harley’s halfway. “My name is Peter Parker, I also go by he/him pronouns. I’m Mr. Stark’s intern, and I’m sure you also know what my other job is,” he says with a grin.

“Well, Mr. Parker,” Harley’s grip is firm when they shake hands. “I do believe this is the start of a wonderful partnership.”


End file.
